Reviewed by: Endless Caverns: An Underground Journey into the Show Caves of Appalachia by Douglas Reichert Powell Joe Lebold Endless Caverns: An Underground Journey into the Show Caves of Appalachia. By Douglas Reichert Powell. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2018. Pp. 218.) Douglas Reichert Powell has produced a very thoroughly researched and wonderfully written account of the often overlooked and surprisingly interconnected origin and evolution of show caves in Appalachia with the historical and cultural development of the greater Appalachian region. Readers are essentially along for the "crawl" as Powell intertwines his show-cave research [End Page 187] and personal experiences with the history of caves from their earliest role as shelters and landmarks for Indigenous Americans to the post-1950s expansion of the interstate highway system and current-day conservation efforts. Having visited numerous active show caves, Powell distills the experience into an almost formulaic series of events. Guides steer ticket-holding customers through creatively lit passages containing unique cave formations, which (depending on the guide) take hundreds to millions of years to form. The tours often culminate in the "Total Darkness Demonstration" (84) in which the guides turn off the lights and introduce customers to the natural state of the cave—complete and total darkness that our eyes can never penetrate. Powell explores the variety of emotions felt in the deep, damp darkness and periodically draws upon these emotions to create a myriad of connections between the inherent nature of caves and humans. Powell introduces a wide variety of cave-related topics that will appeal to anyone interested in caves, geology, Appalachian geography and history, or Americana-inspired carnival sideshows. While there is some element of predictability in the timelines of the various show caves that serves to unite the chapters, Powell consistently offers unexpected twists and turns in how the history of an area shapes its local show caves and how these same show caves help shape the history of their area. Powell introduces a seemingly endless cast of unique show-cave entrepreneurs who have dedicated their time and money to what is described as a labor of love. His stories about show-cave businesses almost never end in financial success, but their owners find tremendous satisfaction in introducing customers to the wonder and mystery of a previously unknown world that lies just beneath their feet. Powell also unearths one of the most important distinctions of cave culture, the difference between spelunkers and cavers. While probably considered synonymous by the general public, these two groups, while sharing an interest in caves, could not be more different. Powell introduces readers to a quote that sums up the distinction in its entirety: "Cavers Rescue Spelunkers" (98). His characterization of both the foolhardy spelunkers and the mindful cavers is spot on. As with many aspects of caves and caving culture, he expands the characterization of these two groups into two overarching themes of how show-cave owners conserve or exploit the caves they operate. While the landscape of America has changed dramatically since humans first occupied caves and enterprising individuals from seemingly every walk of life shaped them into show caves, Powell reminds us that no matter what happens above ground, caves are part of the earth just as much as rock, and caves endure. [End Page 188] Joe Lebold West Virginia University Copyright © 2023 West Virginia University Press
Reviewed by: Gwinnett County, Georgia, and the Transformation of the American South, 1818–2018 ed. by Michael Gagnon and Matthew Hild Michael Buseman Gwinnett County, Georgia, and the Transformation of the American South, 1818–2018. Edited by Michael Gagnon and Matthew Hild. (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2022. Pp. 268.) Few American cities have grown more rapidly over the last half century than Atlanta, Georgia. Obvious signs of expansion—felled pine forests, construction vehicles, and new subdivision placards—dot the counties north, south, east, and west of downtown. Situated to the northeast of Atlanta, Gwinnett County has become the standard-bearer for southern suburban sprawl. While its growth was delayed relative to other metro Atlanta counties, "Gwinnett is now Georgia's second most populous county—close behind Fulton, which contains most of the city of Atlanta. Not Fulton but Gwinnett is Georgia's most ethnically diverse county" (2–3). [End Page 184] Despite its sheer size and recent economic explosion, Gwinnett County has yet to be studied in earnest by historians. Michael Gagnon and Matthew Hild address this shortcoming in Gwinnett County, Georgia, and the Transformation of the American South, 1818–2018. This edited collection's fifteen "articles are arranged in roughly chronological order, but the collection is not intended to provide a seamless chronological history of the county" (4). Bookending with an introduction and an afterword, Gagnon and Hild include articles spanning from the early nineteenth century to the early twenty-first century. Historians, mainly from Atlanta-area institutions, address Antebellum Cherokee relations, the Gwinnett County cotton slavery system, the Civil War in Gwinnett, local reactions to Reconstruction, railroad development and settlement, Lost Cause mythmaking, Gwinnett County populism and farmers' organizations, Gilded Age success and failure, the rise and fall of local cotton culture, progressive-era Gwinnett women, African American out-migration, local preservation fights, the recent tensions between a rural and modern Gwinnett, and the impact of mass international migration on the county. Gagnon, Hild, and the authors organize these disparate topics into an eminently accessible and useful collection. Bradley Rice and Julia Brock provide necessary context in their introduction and afterword. While not strictly chronological, the articles flow together into an effective historical overview. Each entry is historically significant, nuanced, and well researched. According to Rice, the work "seeks to advance understanding and inspire continued scholarship" (9). While this is a common goal of edited collections, Gwinnett County accomplishes this in a unique way. Most of the entries are under fifteen pages, which nurtures an introductory-level knowledge of each topic but encourages more research. At the end of his article on Gwinnett County's cotton boom and bust, for example, William Bryan suggests a tantalizing connection between the decimation of local land values after the cotton boom and the rapid growth of suburban land acquisition and sprawl. Additionally, the shorter article length makes this collection an excellent candidate for repeated use in upper-level history courses. Gwinnett County is not strictly an Appalachian source, which is not a surprise. While the county is technically within the Appalachian Regional Commission boundaries, few residents or even scholars consider it to be anything more than Appalachian adjacent. The authors most often identify Gwinnett County as part of the Piedmont, and their scholarship fits most appropriately within southern and suburban historiographies. This is not to say, however, that Gwinnett County offers no utility to Appalachian residents and historians. After all, the Atlanta area has become a popular destination for central Appalachian migrants. Additionally, many of the themes and events on Appalachia's periphery described in this collection also occurred in the [End Page 185] heart of the region, which could lead to some interesting topical comparisons. For example, Gagnon and Hild's article on Gwinnett Reconstruction could be paired with Jennifer Lund Smith's study of Reconstruction policy in the North Georgia mountains.1 Gwinnett County, Georgia, and the Transformation of the American South, 1818–2018 is proof that southern and Appalachian history can complement each other in illuminating ways, and that instructive histories can be found on Appalachia's edges. Michael Buseman University of North Georgia Note 1. Jennifer Lund Smith, "Negotiating the Terms of Freedom: The Quest for...
Reviewed by: On the Plains in '65: The 6th West Virginia Volunteer Cavalry in the West by George H. Holliday Molly C. Mersmann On the Plains in '65: The 6th West Virginia Volunteer Cavalry in the West. By George H. Holliday. Edited by Glenn V. Longacre. (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2021. Pp. v, 220.) Glenn V. Longacre's passion for Appalachian history is evidenced in this annotated edition of George H. Holliday's resurrected memoir, On the Plains in '65. Longacre follows Holliday, a southern Ohioan who enlisted in the new state of West Virginia during the American Civil War. Holliday wrote about his yearlong experience (1865–66) protecting the US government's communication and transportation services on the Great Plains and in the Rockies as a member of the 6th West Virginia Cavalry. While this historical narrative is known to Western scholars, Longacre seeks to return it to Appalachian history by integrating and contextualizing Holliday's childhood, family, comrades, and postwar life. Grounding this memoir in Appalachia allows new meanings to arise and a new regional audience to find an interest in George H. Holliday and the 6th West Virginia Cavalry. Through Holliday, Longacre not only deepens the breadth and depth of Appalachia's past but also adds to current scholarly debates seeking to bring the West more fully into Civil War and Reconstruction scholarship. On the Plains in '65 complicates recent scholarship debating when the American Civil War ended, for the war did not end for soldiers like Holliday who were reassigned west to continue their service in 1865 (xxiii–xxv).1 This annotated memoir likewise complements Reconstruction debates concerning the difficulties of government authority and reach in the West, as transporting resources such as wood and vegetables, negotiations with Indigenous people, and orders were influenced by local conditions.2 Moreover, the memoir was written at a time (self-published in 1883) when many Civil War veterans, Union and Confederate alike, wanted to preserve their experiences, shape the war's meaning, and make a quick buck.3 Yet Longacre contends that Holliday wanted to recount the ailments he suffered during his year out west working for the military in order to convince the government to give him a pension, particularly as his suffering only increased after his discharge in 1866 (xxxiii–xxxiv). Among these varying avenues of interest to scholars of the West, the Civil War, Reconstruction, memory, Appalachia, and frontier studies, there is much to attract readers of all audiences. For instance, Holliday details how one of his comrades stole a horse from a friendly Indigenous tribe and disguised it, passing the animal off as his own, though the ruse did not work. Likewise, Longacre discusses the celebration received by the 6th West Virginia Cavalry when the regiment finally returned home in 1866 (113–14, 129–31). These anecdotes and more play into five themes that pervade the annotated [End Page 189] memoir: weather and terrain difficulties, hunting and adventure, tensions with Indigenous tribes, camp boredom, and Appalachia. Using recent secondary source work as well as national and regional primary sources, including newspaper articles, pension records, the Official Records for the War of the Rebellion, and various other published tracts, Longacre creates a well-rounded portrait of Holliday prior to and during the war, and into the post–Civil War era, situating him from start to finish in the heart of Appalachia. Longacre's organization, including an "Editorial Method" section, appendices, and detailed notes, corrects inconsistencies in the account and adds depth to Holliday's relationships and experiences, allowing for needed contextualization without subsuming Holliday's voice. It is valuable to note that this is not a military history of the 6th West Virginia Cavalry, and Longacre is quick to address and contextualize the stereotypes of African Americans and Native Americans prevalent throughout Holliday's memoir. By following a southern Ohioan who joins the 6th West Virginia Cavalry and documents his experiences on the Great Plains and in the Rocky Mountains, Longacre succeeds in diversifying and broadening what is meant by Appalachian history. [End Page 190] Molly C. Mersmann Virginia Tech Notes 1. For more information on this debate, see Gregory Downs, After Appomattox: Military Occupation and...
Born Merchant:Local Influence on Extractive Industry in Pocahontas County, West Virginia Kristen Bailey In 1891, a group of businessmen published a prospectus entitled "Marlinton, Pocahontas County, the Future Manufacturing and Industrial Center of the Virginias," designed to entice investment into a new town in the Greenbrier River Valley.1 The roster of businessmen associated with the plan for the Pocahontas Development Company (PDC) included men from Taylor and Marion Counties in West Virginia. Prominent politicians such as Johnson Newlon Camden and Aretus Brooks Fleming added weight to the proposal, but the final name in the listed directors stands out as the only local involved.2 Jacob Williamson Marshall, a merchant from Mingo Flats, had a long history of representing his community's economic and political interests in the Beverly Valley and the Greenbrier River Valley, and his participation in the PDC signified local interest to investors.3 While the modern understanding of the impact of extractive timber operations on West Virginia points to the PDC as a tool of rapid timber extraction, Marshall's role points to a different understanding of the town's purpose. An examination of the participation of a prominent local merchant in a plan to develop a town and infrastructure to support timber extraction highlights the nebulous line that separated economic invigoration from wholesale destruction for profit. This article contributes to a discussion of the role of insiders in nineteenth-century West Virginia's prelude to industrialized extractive practices that forever altered the geography of many regions of the state. The experience of locations such as Randolph and Pocahontas Counties in the timber industry stands as an example of the range of interests in play as the twentieth century dawned in West Virginia. Outsiders and foreign capitalists were not the only investors in opportunity, as locals exercised their power to drive rural communities into the global marketplace. Wilma Dunaway's analysis of world systems theory confirms that "the incorporation of Southern Appalachia's local economies into the capitalist world system involved every level of society."4 Examining [End Page 127] the world of a local merchant as he transitioned from antebellum practices of barter and subsistence to industrial extraction is important to understanding that economic level in West Virginia. Jacob Marshall's role as a merchant and economic guide in his community during western Virginia's antebellum growth can be compared to his involvement in late nineteenth-century practices of capitalist extraction across West Virginia and Appalachia. Although the political landscape shifted dramatically around Marshall's economic ventures, his place in the expansion in his region's economic development was not particularly tarnished by those changes. The Greenbrier River Valley held as much promise for Marshall at the end of his life as it did during his antebellum period of success, and he was, throughout, a born merchant. While his work and life were not remarkably different than other small merchants across western Virginia, an examination of the life of a resident who was neither an extractive capitalist nor a yeomen farmer is relevant to West Virginia's history.5 The transition to a professionalized method of wealth extraction was not necessarily removed from antebellum habits of rural merchants, who utilized distant relationships for income production. Practices such as the feedlot system, which involved coordination between rural brokers and outsider interests, have been examined by historian Ronald Lewis, and this article considers whether timber extraction was consistent with these types of business practices.6 Like merchants in other parts of Civil War–era Appalachia, the postwar economy of West Virginia was ripe for modernization. Steven Nash recognized that postwar development held potential to revive Appalachia's economy.7 Scholarship from Mary Beth Pudup suggests that men like Marshall struggled to achieve the promise of their early ventures due to the inability of the agriculture-based economy to rise above subsistence methods.8 The development of a sustained capitalistic economy was certainly influenced by transitioning politics within the state. Building on the work of historians such as Richard Curry, this article examines Marshall's place in the Democratic resurgence in West Virginia near the end of the nineteenth century, which opened resource development.9 State-level...
Reviewed by: Through the Mountains: The French Broad River and Time by John E. Ross Robert Hunt Ferguson Through the Mountains: The French Broad River and Time. By John E. Ross. (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2021. Pp. xiii, 246.) In 1955, Wilma Dykeman published her first book, The French Broad. As part of the publishing house Rhinehart & Company's seminal "The Rivers of America" series, Dykeman's work became a standard for regional history and launched her career as a chronicler of southern Appalachian life. While Dykeman's research on the region that covers much of southwestern North Carolina and eastern Tennessee remains a hallmark of Appalachian history, the information is now outdated. John E. Ross has taken on the worthy task of writing a new history of the French Broad River watershed. Ross does not merely update Dykeman's work by documenting how "the river and its tributaries have nurtured humans for thousands of years" (5). Additionally, he poses questions about the future of the French Broad watershed and challenges its inhabitants and visitors to renew and innovate their stewardship of the region to meet modern environmental challenges. The greatest strength of Through the Mountains lies in Ross's ability to masterfully synthesize the latest geological, anthropological, and historical research on the French Broad River watershed. In a little over two hundred pages, Ross does an admirable job of tracking the region's history from prehistoric eras through the Cherokee's dominance to European exploration, and eventually presenting the ways the major events of the 1700s through the [End Page 186] 1900s played out locally. Anyone searching for a comprehensive history of the region would be hard-pressed to find anything more complete. Readers looking for an environmental history of French Broad River watershed, however, will not find it here. While geological processes as well as plants and animals factor into the story, Ross focuses the majority of his pages on the region's human inhabitants. People, of course, are not separate from the environment. Many wonderful environmental histories have explained the complex relationships between humans and water. Ross saves most of his investigation of how humans interacted with the watershed's rivers until the late 1800s when industrialists began building dams. Through the Mountains is a book about the people in the French Broad watershed but not always of the watershed. Sometimes the rivers disappear from the narrative for too many pages. Yet Ross has crafted a history of the region that is both compelling and thorough. Readers will delight in learning about the evolutionary relationship the native brook trout shares with the Arctic char, the dubious claim to fame of the town of Erwin, Tennessee (I won't spoil it), and how Hartford, Tennessee, became known as "Widowville" because of its location downstream from Canton, North Carolina, where Champion Fibre Company released dioxinlaced wastewater that led to a dramatic increase in cancer (193). As a historian, this reviewer enjoyed learning more about the region's past. Yet as a resident of the region and as someone raising a family here, Ross's most compelling chapter came last. In "The Planners' Paradox," Ross looks to the future. He explores multiple options for how the inhabitants of the French Broad watershed can become increasingly good stewards to the water and all it supports. The next time I take my daughters to a swimming hole on the West Fork of the Pigeon River or am lucky enough to entice a brook trout to take a Parachute Adams fly, the history and lessons from Through the Mountains: The French Broad River and Time will be fresh in my mind. That's the mark of a great book. Robert Hunt Ferguson Western Carolina University Copyright © 2023 West Virginia University Press
